Zandra was astonished. Had she?
“If I did, it wasn’t because you were a bad lover, Heath,” she hastened to assure him. “I always enjoyed being with you.”
“I know. I felt genuine passion from you.” His eyes glinted. “But he’s the one you really wanted to be shagging.”
Heat rushed over Zandra, scorching her from scalp to toes. “I... It’s not something I consciously thought about. I’ve known Remington practically all my life. He was the most important male in my universe. And as we grew older, he became...well, I guess he became, to me, the quintessential embodiment of masculinity. And he...he... Oh, God.” She turned and stared out the window, her face burning with mortification.
How could she have forgotten about the illicit fantasies she’d once had about Remy? How could she have forgotten that the second time she and Heath made love, she’d closed her eyes and pictured Remy rising above her, his face tender with longing as he thrust into her.
Or maybe she hadn’t forgotten. Maybe she’d simply suppressed the memory because she was ashamed, and she was afraid to analyze the meaning of her fantasies. She was good at that. Burying memories, suppressing feelings.
Heath gave a sympathetic chuckle. “You have no reason to be embarrassed, Zandra. Although you didn’t know it at the time, you were in love with Remington. So it was only natural that you’d imagine him during our lovemaking.” He paused. “Now if it had been some random bloke whose name you called out, then I might have taken umbrage.”
Zandra stared at him, aghast. “Please don’t tell me I—”
“Oh, heavens, no. Nothing like that.” Heath’s gray eyes glinted with humor. “Well...maybe once or twice.”
He laughed as Zandra groaned and covered her face with her hands.
After the barista came over and removed their empty plates, Zandra smiled ruefully at Heath. “Enough about me and my Freudian issues. How are you doing? Are you seeing anyone special?”
“Not at the moment. Oh, I’ve dabbled in relationships over the years, but there’s been no one special.” He smiled wistfully. “You ruined me for all others, Zandra.”
“I’m truly sorry to hear that,” she said softly. “If there was any way for me to make it up to you, I would.”
Heath reached across the table and gently took her hand.
She stared at their entwined fingers, then slowly raised her eyes to his.
There was an edge of sadness to his quiet smile. “In case my cancer comes back, and I never see you again...there is one thing you can do for me before you leave.”
Zandra held his gaze. “Anything.”
He hesitated for a long moment. “I need to see you with him. Hearing about him is one thing. Seeing the two of you together...that’s what will finally set me free.”
Chapter Eighteen
It was after one when Zandra returned to 51 Buckingham Gate, a luxury hotel nestled on a secluded side street between Buckingham Palace and Westminster Cathedral. The moment she stepped from the chauffeured vehicle, the concierge materialized to take her shopping bags up to an opulently furnished presidential suite that featured beautiful artwork, a separate living and dining room, a kitchen, and views overlooking the hotel’s lavishly landscaped courtyard garden.
She hadn’t been back long when Remy returned from the conference. She helped him out of his suit jacket and fixed him a drink from the bar.
When he saw all the shopping bags in the room, he laughed and shook his head at her. “I guess I don’t have to ask how you spent your morning.”
She gave him a saucy grin. “Don’t make fun of me. You know what a clotheshorse I am. Besides, you’re the one who banned me from attending your panel session.” Her grin widened. “How was it, by the way? Were you able to concentrate any better?”
“Not really.”
“Why not?”